Is
by AlphaBetaSoup
Summary: "Just because she's dead, doesn't change the kind of person that she is" / Old friends reunite to remember the one they loved most / BETA /


_Hey everyone! It's Beta!_

_I wanted to try my hand at writing something sad so this is it. I am glad I'm done writing it but I am also mad because it turned out really bad-ly. (Hee hee! XD)_

_It's not actually **that** bad. I find some parts really awkwardly written but whatevs._

_ANYWAYS, this is a PnF story. Mostly hurt/comfort/friendship. Not really much pairings except Phinabella, implied Ferbnessa, and past Ferbetchen (is that what they're called?) Buford and Baljeet are also together in this so...yeah. It doesn't really have much to do with the story though. It's just to add to certain plot point things...I have no idea what I'm saying right now. I'll just move on to the disclaimer._

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_Disclaimer: I don't own Phineas and Ferb. You should be happy._

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**_:::_**

_Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. _

_It's the transition that's troublesome._

_~ Isaac Asimov_

_**:::**_

It was snowing again, the fifth time that week.

Silver icicles clung to the tips of the rooftops as white snowflakes fell, each with their own unique shape and size.

Phineas uneasily crossed the street. He knew this day was coming. Although it wasn't marked on his calendar it had left a permanent mark in his head. In his heart.

His mind had been in a completely different state for the past few weeks. It was as if everything going on around him was nothing more than an awful dream he couldn't wake up from. He had stopped working for a little while, stopped inventing. He had even stopped going outside, save the few times he forced himself to do so in order to prove to Candace he was fine and did not, in fact, need any more counselling.

Now he was finally outside and all he could think about _her_. Her hair, her smile, the way her eyes always reflected her mood. It always hurt so much thinking about her yet he couldn't stop. The harder he tried to forget, the more he would remember about her. And whenever he thought about her, he would always forget about everything else going on around him.

He hardly even noticed when a little red-headed boy ran into him.

"Sorry Sir," he muttered before running off to his friends and the lopsided snow fort they had built. Being an inventor, Phineas could easily point out every flaw in that fort. Apparently so could the little boy, as he begun telling his friends what to do to make it better in a kind, gentle manner.

Phineas remembered a time when that boy had been him, where those friends had been his friends. That had been years ago. Before things like high school and college came along to end their everlasting childhood and thoughts of growing up came without the stress. When everyone was full of life and death wasn't quite in their vocabulary just yet. What were once close, vivid images of happier times were now just a distant memory waiting to fade away unnoticed.

Turning a corner, Phineas continued walking until he reached the familiar sign. While he had not been able to bring himself to the place at all throughout the year, he still had fairly clear memories of coming here when he was younger—about two or three years old—with his mother and sister.

From what he could remember, nothing much had changed. The sign was old and hard to read beneath all the snow, but if you squinted hard enough you could just make out the letters carved into it;

_Danville Graveyard_

Phineas took a deep breath and stepped through the gate.

_**:::**_

While Phineas had not visited her grave he knew exactly where it was. She had been buried between her father and his own father, just as she had requested.

Phineas let his feet guide the way as his mind was still a bit off. Directing himself towards his destination, he stopped short. Someone was already there. Someone was at her grave.

Phineas watched in confusion as the figure bent down and placed something at her grave. It was hard to tell through all the snow who it was. Phineas couldn't bring himself to do much more than stare either.

Finally the figure turned around. Their eyes widened at the sight of Phineas. Phineas' eyes widened the same way.

"..._Django_?"

It wasn't so much of a question as it was a statement. It had been a while since he had last seen his artistic friend and the shock of seeing Django once again after so long just got to him. While not much of Django had changed visibly, it was very noticeable that had gotten a haircut.

After a little while more of silence, Django finally cleared his throat.

"I-I didn't realize you were here. Would you like...some time alone?"

Still shocked, Phineas shook his head slowly. "You were here first." He managed to get out.

Django shrugged. "I'm so sorry. I-I was just..." he nodded towards the object he had placed, which Phineas could now identify as a painting. Django took a step back so the both of them could get a better look.

Phineas gasped. He recognized that image.

The painting was a replica of the picture he had taken of her during their senior year trip in Paris. Her dark curls hung loosely over her shoulders and a huge smile was plastered on her face. On the top of her head was a purple beret, the same one he had bought her with the last of the spending money his mother had given to him.

The same one he cried himself to sleep with every night.

He remembered how much she had admired the picture. How he had taken it at "just the right angle." Every detail was captured in it, from the dimples in her cheeks to the silver sparkles in her cherry red lipgloss. It was all so perfect. She was perfect.

She _is _perfect.

"I painted this yesterday," Django sighed.

Phineas blinked. He had forgotten that Django was even there.

"I spent months and months trying to get it just right—restarted it more times than you could ever imagine. It was like; this picture was what was forbidding me from moving on. I thought that if I got it out on canvas then all the pain would go away. That's why it had to be perfect."

Phineas bit his lip, trying to figure out what Django was trying to say. He had never considered any of his pictures to be anything less than perfect.

"I wanted this painting to be my big goodbye but every stroke I took looked worse than the one before. At first I thought I was losing my touch, even gave up painting for a while. Then one night I woke up and realized that there wasn't anything wrong with me or my paintings. I just wasn't ready to move on yet."

Phineas nodded as he wasn't quite sure how to react to someone being so open with him about her. He often avoided the subject of her death and whenever someone did come to talking to him about her it was nothing more than "_she was such a nice girl_."

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped short when a third figure joined the small group. This figure, unlike Django's, was much smaller and better fit the characteristics of a female.

"You remembered too, huh?"

Gretchen fingered her side-braid as she looked between her old friends. It was hard to recognize her without her signature round glasses. She smiled warmly at the two before averting her eyes to the portrait.

"_So life-like_..." she murmured, "You painted this, right?"

Django nodded. "Finished it last night."

Gretchen smiled again. "It's beautiful. _Just like her_," she added softly.

Suddenly her smile dropped as a fourth figure grew near. Phineas didn't even have to think to know who had come next.

"How're you holding up?" Ferb muttered into his ear.

Phineas shrugged. Ferb then turned his attention to other two. "Django..._Gretchen_." Gretchen subconsciously looked away.

Five minutes later, Buford, Baljeet, and Irving had all shown up, completing the circle. After several long moments of silence and admiring Django's craft, Irving finally spoke up.

"Looks like everyone's here today. We should—um—say a few words. You know, before we go our separate ways again."

Silence. Irving bit his lip, worried he had said something wrong like he often did when they were younger.

"You mean talk about the kind of person she was?" Buford grunted.

Phineas cringed as Buford said that word. _Was_. Ferb seemed to have noticed as he cleared his throat and took a half step forward.

"I do not believe we should use that word; _was_. Everything that she once was on earth, she still is. Just because she's dead, doesn't change the kind of person that she is."

Phineas looked up at Ferb. While he could not bring himself to smile at his brother, his eyes told him exactly what he meant.

The rest of the gang nodded slowly, taking in what Ferb had said.

"That's a good idea. I'll go first."

Phineas looked up to see Gretchen take a brave step forward. Years ago Gretchen wouldn't have been first for anything besides first place in a spelling bee. Even though she was older now, it still surprised him. Then again, Isabella was Gretchen's best friend. Why wouldn't she want to be the first to speak?

Gretchen cleared her throat. "You were my best friend. You..._are _my best friend. Still. I remember that time after graduation when me and Ferb—um..."

She gave Ferb a guilty side-glance. Ferb shrugged it off and gave her a slight nod, as if to say "_go on_."

"...We...um..._broke up._" Gretchen's cheeks had gone bright red and no one tell whether it was out of embarrassment or because of the cold. Phineas guessed it was a mixture of both.

"I went to your house the following day. I was a complete mess. I wouldn't stop crying and I'm pretty sure I infected your bed with all the used tissues I had left there," Gretchen smirked. It was a strained smirk, but a smirk none the less. "I-um, I mean...it was all so silly. I was being silly. I cried and cried even though everything was entirely my fault. I was the jerk in the relationship and you knew it. Yet you let me cry about it. You let my mascara stain your favourite pillow and tolerated my pain even though you already had a massive headache to deal with."

Gretchen looked up. The tears in her eyes were visible and it was easy to tell that at any moment she would break.

"Then... um... y-you even cancelled your date with Phineas for me, which is c-crazy since you were madly in love with him and..." her voice trembled, "...and...when you and Phineas temporarily broke up I didn't even care. I wasn't even _there_—"

By then Gretchen had began silently sobbing and everyone knew she had said what was needed to be said. Ferb gently held Gretchen's shoulder and pulled her away, giving Django space to step forward.

"Uh...like I had said to Phineas earlier, it's been really hard for me to forget. I mean, if it weren't for you I wouldn't be where I am. You encouraged me to keep on drawing." Django paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts, "I've always loved to draw—I won't deny that—but you're the one who made me realize that it's what I really wanted to do with the rest of my life. In kindergarten I was so shy, more so than Gretchen...no offence."

Gretchen, whose eyes were clearly still red and puffy, shrugged.

"Anyhow, I remember that one day in kindergarten when I forgot my crayons. I was going to ask Phineas and Ferb if I could use some of their crayons—since they were pretty much my only friends—but so many other kids were surrounding them and I didn't know what to do. Not to mention the school crayons _sucked_."

Django let out a breathy chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "So I sat on the floor alone with a blank piece of paper for, like, ten minutes until you crawled over. You asked me if I wanted to join the group and, when I declined, you brought your crayons and sat with me. You just sat with me and drew your rainbow unicorns like it was no big deal even though you hardly even knew me. I was so happy that I drew you as a princess and gave it to you. You told me that it was amazing and that I could be a famous artist and make a gazillion dollars. It really wasn't much. I wasn't even sure you truly meant it."

He took a deep, shaky breath and looked around. None of the gang seemed quite ready to speak yet so Django saved the silence and continued.

"So—uh—then in ninth grade when I came over to your house I saw the picture hanging above your bed and...that's how I knew you had meant it so...thank-you. For everything. You really mean a lot to me. I wish I could show you how much you mean to me but...I cried myself out the night I found out you were..." Django cut himself off and quickly took a step back, allowing Ferb to take his place.

Ferb blinked a few times, staring at her grave. For a moment Phineas wondered if Ferb was actually going to say anything. "As you know, I am not one for words. You have lived across the street from Phineas and me for as long as I can remember. You are like a second sister to me. I'm not sure what else to say," pause, "You...got me and Gretchen together, and while it did not end well, it was nice while it lasted. You also reunited me with Vanessa, who I have just recently proposed to."

After a quiet round of congratulations, Baljeet took the center.

"This is quite awkward as I do not often speak to inanimate objects, even if there are people underneath. I do, however, speak for both myself and for Buford. You have done so much for the two of us I'm not even sure where to start." Baljeet paused and it wasn't until Buford whispered into his ear that he kept on going.

"The day that I confessed to my mother—about my sexuality, I mean—she, I mean _you_, were there for me. You comforted me and let me stay with you until things got sorted out. You even offered to talk to my family about it but...I would not let you. You had done so much for me already that I-I...I need a moment."

Phineas watched as Baljeet wailed into Buford's shoulder. Then he looked at the rest of his friends, all with eyes as damp as his own. It had never really occurred to him that they loved her as much as he did. He spent so much time feeling bad for himself that he didn't even think about how badly it affected anyone else, not even her mother who was now completely alone since her husband and her only daughter had both passed. Somehow that made Phineas feel like a terrible person.

Baljeet cleared his throat and began to speak again. This time, however, he faced the gang.

"She was—I mean she _is _a bright young woman with so many great opportunities ahead of her, yet she had no idea what to make of her life. The only thing she was certain of was that she wanted to be a mother. She wanted to start a family. It was her dream and Buford and I took that away from her," he let out a soft noise, almost like a whimper, "I will never forgive myself for it."

The rest of the gang was silent. They all knew the story. Details were not needed. Baljeet buried his head deeper into Buford's chest.

Seeing Baljeet look so upset and helpless left a wave of guilt hovering over Phineas. Guilt he had never been able to control. "You have no right to feel that way, Baljeet."

Baljeet, as well as everyone else, broke apart from their upset trance. Those were the first words Phineas had really said since they all showed up.

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

Phineas sighed. As embarrassing as it all, it was something Phineas had wanted to get off his chest for a while. "You gave her the experience that she'd always wanted," Phineas shrugged, "That's more than I was ever able to give her. More than I ever probably would."

Baljeet cocked his head. "I still do not understand what you are talking about."

Phineas turned his head to avoid the curious gazes. His eyes had long since given in as a mix of snowflakes and teardrops slid down his rosy cheeks. "Some time ago—we were still dating at the time—she told me that she wanted a baby. I wasn't ready for that kind of thing. We fought about it for a while, part of the reason we broke up for a bit in the first place."

Phineas sniffled quietly. He really wished he had brought tissues. He hated to cry in front of his friends.

"We got back together and I still wasn't ready. She sucked it up and told me she was long over it. That's around the time she decided to carry your baby," Phineas nodded and Buford and Baljeet, "She was so happy."

A large gust of wind blew past as the amount of snowflakes falling tripled their speed. A storm was coming. Phineas wrapped his coat tighter around his body.

"Few months later, I considered myself ready. I'm not sure if I ever truly was but that didn't really matter. Many more emotional events later and we found ourselves sitting in a hospital with some doctor telling us she had cancer."

Gretchen sucked in her breath. She remembered the phone call she had received that night. It had been an emotional conversation for the both of them.

Phineas sighed. "She didn't even care that she was sick. She was just upset she couldn't have children. She tried so hard to hide her disappointment, really she did. I didn't tell her that I noticed the looks she gave other young mothers or that I knew she cried herself to sleep every night. She may have seemed fine on the outside, but inside she was miserable and there was no one to blame for that depression but me."

Buford scratched the back of his head. "Dinner Bell, it ain't your fault she got cancer."

"No," Phineas replied coldly, "but if I wasn't such a chicken then maybe your baby would be ours... _sorry_." His sorry was so quiet he wasn't sure anyone else heard it. "No matter how hard she tried to deny it, I knew the truth and I couldn't apologize because it was much too late. I had already broken her heart..._again_."

An old man walked by with a single red rose in his hand. Phineas took a step to the side, giving him space to get through. The man nodded at Phineas and as he did so, he noticed something in the man's grey eyes. They were glazed over and distant, just like his own eyes looked anytime he looked in the mirror. Anytime he thought of her.

"When she got better she pretty much devoted her life to getting to know your daughter, Buford and Baljeet. She knew she that she wasn't hers but she wanted to make sure the two of you lived the perfect life...the life we didn't get to live."

Baljeet's wails increased. Buford awkwardly tried to calm him down but couldn't. "Why?" Baljeet cried. "Why didn't she tell us? All those times, every time she came to visit, every toy she bought for her...I thought she was trying to take our baby girl away from us. Every time I shut the door in her face...told her our daughter was sleeping..." Baljeet shook his head sadly, "I am such an awful person. I do not deserve to be here."

Before anyone had time to react, Baljeet was already walking sadly into the distance. Phineas was about to go after him but Buford stopped him. "Reality hurts." He mumbled.

Phineas didn't protest. He knew exactly what Buford meant.

"C-can I say something?"

Buford nodded as Irving took a step forward. Phineas listened intently. He was very curious as to what Irving had to say about her. He didn't know much about their relationship. He wasn't even sure if they were really friends.

"I've always been jealous of you. How close you were to Phineas and Ferb. I spent more time wishing I could be you than even obsessing over the two of them. Back then I wanted nothing more than for you to be gone. Now that you are gone..." Irving removed his pink glasses, wiping the fog off of them, "...I realize that beneath all that jealously I actually look up to you."

Irving took a step back, indicating he had said what he needed to.

Gretchen sniffed. "I guess...we all said something to her since Baljeet spoke for Buford too, unless..._Phineas_?"

Phineas' knees had given in as he lay in the snow, hugging her grave like it was all he had left. Gretchen pulled out her cell phone, ready to call someone when Django stopped her.

"I was so stupid..." Phineas sobbed, "so...so...stupid. I didn't hold your hand, didn't stay with you every moment like I could have. I had it in my head you were fine. You were fine the first time, you survived the first time."

The five others watched Phineas, listening.

"You were so full of life, all the time. No one would've thought the cancer would come back. No one would've thought you would _die_."

Phineas reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver object. _A ring_.

"This is your wedding ring. I'm not sure why I kept it for so long. It's not mine, it's yours. You wore it for one night. Our night. We got married in the hospital. You remember that? We were going to have a bigger wedding when you got better. See? I thought you were going to get better, but you didn't. You died the next morning."

Making a small hole in the ground with his bare hands, Phineas placed the ring in it and covered it up. Then he stood and wiped the snow from his knees.

"It's yours. You looked so beautiful it in. You looked so beautiful. You are so beautiful." Phineas turned to the rest of the gang. "She _is_ so beautiful."

"She _is_ such a great friend," Gretchen added.

"She _is_ also a great role model," Irving noted.

"She _is_ funny," Buford said.

"She _is_ helpful and has a heart full of gold," Ferb murmured.

"She _is_ encouraging and always thinks of others before herself," Django sniffed.

"She is...my Is...my _Isabella_," Phineas cried, "Izzy, why did you have to go?"

The six of them stood there, taking everything in. They had learned a lot about each other that they did not know before. While they were not as close as they used to be—they never would be as close as they used to be—they now at least knew that they would always have each other. That although they were all as different as different could be, they were all still the same. They were all still broken children on the inside, finally ready to move on.

Ferb cleared his throat. "I really should be off now. Vanessa is waiting for me in the car and she hates driving in the snow."

Goodbyes were not needed. They silently watched as Ferb walked away, watching as his green hair became nothing more than part of the scenery. He was later followed by Irving, and then Django.

"Hey Buford," Gretchen asked quietly, "What did you name your daughter?"

"What do you think?" was Buford's answer before he trudged off as well, to a Baljeet probably crying silently in the back of their car.

Gretchen nodded. "I should be off too. Do you need a ride?"

Phineas shook his head as Gretchen also walked away. He wondered when he would ever see her again, _if _he would ever see her again. Maybe he would invite them all for dinner one night, just for old time's sake.

Phineas chuckled. He would, of course, have to keep Ferb and Gretchen away from each other, the same way Isabella did when the four of them used to hang out.

He turned back to her grave. The portrait was covered in snow but Django had smartly thought ahead and laminated it. There the painting would stay, between the fathers that she loved, even though she didn't know one of them and hardly remembered the other. There, the painting would stay, in front of her grave and behind her diamond ring. There the painting would stay.

Forever.

"The same way you'll always be my heart," Phineas sighed. "Forever. Always has been, always will be."

Always _is_.

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_Did you get the implication of what Buford and Baljeet named their daughter? I tried to make it as obvious as possible._

_Reviews are always welcome._

_-Beta :)_


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